Divine Comedy

THE very tongue, whose keen reproof before Had wounded me, that either cheek was stain'd, Now minister'd my cure. So have I heard, Achilles and his father's javelin caus'd Pain first, and then the boon of health restor'd.

Turning our back upon the vale of woe, W cross'd th' encircled mound in silence. There Was twilight dim, that far long the gloom Mine eye advanc'd not: but I heard a horn Sounded aloud. The peal it blew had made The thunder feeble. Following its course The adverse way, my strained eyes were bent On that one spot. So terrible a blast Orlando blew not, when that dismal rout O'erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench'd His saintly warfare. Thitherward not long My head was rais'd, when many lofty towers Methought I spied. "Master," said I, "what land Is this?" He answer'd straight: "Too long a space Of intervening darkness has thine eye To traverse: thou hast therefore widely err'd In thy imagining. Thither arriv'd Thou well shalt see, how distance can delude The sense. A little therefore urge thee on."